Would You Please Take Off Your Lab Coat
by Aspen-SiredBySpike
Summary: Upon finding a secret passage behind the DNA lab, Sara finds herself in a world of dreamlike scientific fantasy. The only problem: a mysterious voice that always finds its way to her, asking of her odd requests. What more, Greg is no where to be found...
1. Dictionary Chemical Cookbook

**A/N: This is the first chapter of roughly a 4 or 5 chapter fic that is based on the song Dance Halls Turned To Ghost Towns by The Audition. This is the first fic posted under my new penname because I am told that my alerts aren't showing up which is angering because I have actually posted about 4 things that my friend, Eleen, claims not to have gotten the alerts for. So I am trying a new penname. You may know me as Ever Charming Aspen or even Dracoaspen, but from now on I will be Aspen At Twilight. As well, Sandle rules.**

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**Would You Please Take Off Your Lab Coat**

"The fibers found on the carpet in the upstairs bedroom were a mixture of cotton and spandex." Nick declared as he walked down the hall between Sara and Catherine, reviewing the latest results on evidence from a murder they were working up in Laughlin.

"Great, so they could've come from any t-shirt that was ever sold in Vegas." Catherine deadpanned, annoyed at the results. Why fibers couldn't come back some rare, exotic mix that was only sold at one place for a change instead of a common blend that was sold virtually everywhere, she'd never know.

"Not just any t-shirt." Nick put in.

Catherine raised her eyebrows, thinking things were finally looking up for their case.

"A blue shirt."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, yes, that just helps us out so much."

"Those partials from the diazepam bottle that I sent to the print lab? No hits on AFIS." Sara added reluctantly, not wanting to put an even bigger damper on her blonde comrade.

"Hmm, first time offender." Nick muttered, staring at something down the hall. "They're always fun to deal with."

"I like the ones with records myself." Catherine noted.

"Why?"

"Because they are in the database."

Wanting to get away from the possible upcoming wrath of his co-worker, Nick stopped and said "I'm going down to the morgue to see if Doc Robbins has started the autopsy yet."

"I'll come with you," Catherine volunteered, turning to face Nick.

"Oh, you don't need to do that." Nick tried, knowing that if Doctor Robbins had nothing pertinent to tell, the woman would probably blow a gasket.

"No, I want to. I'm free for awhile."

"Well, while you two go to the morgue, I'll take a trip down to DNA and see if Greg got the results back on that bloody fingerprint we found on the closet door and the hairs from the bed spread." Sara stated.

"So it's settled. Come on, Nicky, let's go visit Doc."

Sara laughed to herself as Catherine turned Nick around and marched him in the opposite direction, the final look of terror on his face, priceless.

Their mindless walking taking them a good piece across the lab, Sara didn't have to go far to reach DNA. She strolled in only to find it empty.

_Hmm, that's weird… _She thought. _Greg never leaves the lab unless he's on break and he took that earlier._

Deciding that he probably wouldn't be long, she chose to stick around. The lab was eerily empty without the presence of her spiky-haired friend, dancing around while placing slides under microscopes or banging his head to heavy metal while working on blood samples.

The room itself gave her a small comfort. It may have held stacks of CDs and the odd picture of him and his friends, but none of the anomalies contained in glass prisons or complete books on the eating habits of the African Hercules Beetle like Grissom's office did. Yes, Greg kept his personal effects to a minimal in physical objects and let them flow out further through his quirky character; that was just one of the things Sara loved about him.

Thinking that her favorite lab tech may be out longer than she speculated, she started wandering aimlessly around the room. She smiled as the screensaver on his computer popped up, adorning a picture of them embracing in joy. She recognized the picture as one that Warrick had taken at the Annual Police Relay last month, right after she finished her leg of the race.

She sighed happily at the memory then quickly moved on in her survey of the room.

She got about two steps away from the computer desk when a flash of black and green caught her eye. There, sitting beside the keyboard was a slightly battered copy of _Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde_. Her eyes bored into the title, looming like a bright green glow over the ebony background, the letter tails being hidden by a menacing syringe, the needle tip gleaming against the glossy cover. Sara never took Greg for much of a reader, but he did claim to reading _The Tell Tale Heart_ because of the prospect of a man murdering someone and hiding the heart under his floorboards. She swiftly resolved that he liked it for the science aspect and nothing more.

Continuing her trek, she roamed her way across the room to a bunch of shelves and cabinets. Chemicals upon chemicals lined the cabinets while textbooks crept along the shelves; each and everyone having to do with something related to DNA. The odd one out, however, was the one that drew her attention.

On the third shelf, the second one from the right was a leather bound book, the title running down the spine in faded gold lettering: _Webster's Dictionary_.

_Webster's?_ She thought to herself, checking the title once more to make sure that she had indeed read it correctly. _That couldn't be right. Webster's isn't that old…_ She ran a hand over the taut leather binding, before grasping it and pulling it out of place.

As soon as it left the shelf, there was a cracking sound, and the wall swung back, revealing a long passageway, leading down through darkened catacombs.

"What in the name of God…" Sara trailed off as she stared down the scarcely lit tunnel.

She took a glimpse at the book in her hand, considering the fact that is most likely triggered the spinning of what had been a solid wall. Sara knew there was something ominous about that book, she had known that Webster's wasn't old enough to be bound in leather, the only books like that for the past few decades had been Bibles.

'_This is where the chemicals grow…_' The words whistled towards her in a chilly breeze, lifting her hair and rustling papers throughout the room.

_Wind, inside?_ She thought, clearly confused at everything that was happening. _It's impossible…_

Another burst of wind floated through the lab, once again carrying with it silent words that made Sara's skin tingle and her body go frigid in glacial trepidation.

'_This is where reactions flow…'_

Was she imagining things, or were there really messages about science and chemicals rushing out of the cavern ahead?

Against her better judgment, she strode forward, letting herself be engulfed by the darkness. As soon as she stepped into the bleak passage, sconces lined across the seasoned stone walls burst into flames, their firelight casting a warm, ethereal glow over the tunnel. Multicolored liquid ran through cracks and holes in the cobblestones. Sara contained her surprise, resolving to keep her head about her and continue on down the drifting walkway.

She didn't get far when she heard a low grinding noise, growing louder as the sound floated upwards. She shifted her gaze downward and took a few steps back when the reef of stones beneath her feet began swiveling and disappearing into the ground, only to be replaced by a coat rack shooting up moments later, each hook containing a lab coat; beside it, a small stool encompassing a piece of what appeared to be parchment and a single candle burning on top.

Leaning over, Sara noticed that the parchment accommodated only two words, flowing across the sheet in handsome, curvaceous writing: _'Take One'_.

Thinking that the request was referring to the lab coats, she set the book she had taken in with her down on the stool and removed one of the many lab coats from a hook, swiftly slipping it on over her jeans and sweater.

Once she was embellished in the stark white layer, the arbor sundered back down into the ground, the stones replacing it once more. When she went to pick up the book again, she was surprised to see that the title on the front was different than the one on the spine: '_Webster's Dictionary Chemical Cookbook_.'

Wondering why she hadn't noticed it earlier, and her curiosity growing to a towering level, she gently lifted back the cover and started flipping gently through the delicate, yellowing pages. Each page looked as if the script had been hand written on instead of printed as a book of mass production, the graceful lettering hooking together with similar curves and hooks on capitals.

Page after page, she stared on in astonishment as the entries became lengthier and more complex, each looking more like a recipe than the last; the only thing wavering her from the idea of the memorandums being formulas for actual products were the ingredients. How could you add satire or charisma to a compound? It was impossible.

_Unless…_ Her mind trailed off, getting ideas that her brain attempted to toss in the gutter. _Sorcery, witch craft, mysticism, alchemy perhaps? _She shook her head, tying to jumble her ludicrous thoughts; Greg would never have a book like that in his lab.

She slammed the book shut with such force that the candle beside it flickered wildly, a tiny slip of parchment falling from it's pages fluttered to the floor. Taking no notice to this small occurrence, Sara snapped up the book and strolled off down the hall.

The note had landed, script side up, the letters dancing in the bright light of the flames. _'The Dictionary Chemical Cookbook was meant to hook you into me'_.


	2. Two Hints Lust

**A/N: So this is chapter 2, and don't worry, Greg will join the story line soon enough. I hope you enjoy it! **

**Disclaimer: (This didn't show up on chapter one for some reason...) I do not own CSI or any of the characters. Just the Scooby Doo like atmosphere and plot.**

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A few twists and turns down the passage later, Sara began hearing that haunting voice again, wafting through the air like a breeze in the night.

'_Would you please take off your lab coat, kiss me as we roll through every chemical? Would you please put on your dance shoes? 'Cause I'm sick of dancing alone…'_

Lab coat? Dance shoes? It just didn't make any sense. The words meant nothing in the slightest to her, although, unfortunately for Sara, that was the fact that bothered her. Should they be significant in some peculiar accordance? If they were directed towards her, shouldn't they trigger something in her mind to help her understand what they meant? What she should do next?

_Splash! Splash! Splash!_

Ichorous emerald and sapphire chemicals showered up behind her as she trudged through what could be toxicants for all she knew, her sneakers making a satisfying smack as they hit the stones in a pulsing sort of rhythm. The phrase she has heard back in the lab came abruptly back to her: '_This is where the chemicals grow'. _

It was obvious that it had been telling her the truth, aqueous compounds of every color coursed around her feet, seeping into cracks every now and then, some even dripped from the ceiling, dribbling icily against the ground. Thoughts surged through her, grotesque and diseased ideas of what some of them could be. Poison. Venom. Toxins. Bane. Acid. Pollutants. She wished she had her kit with her so she could test the scarlet stuff, a nagging feeling telling her that it was something she saw almost daily on the job.

Pushing them from her mind, she continued on, her head held high as to not stare, somewhat frightened at the fluids gushing past her at minimal height. Little did she know, as soon as she directed her gaze away from it, the colors mutated into a sickly green, seeping together, creating a small pool where the chemicals began molding themselves into letters, the cobbles being their backdrop: '_Who is it tonight, Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?'_

Keeping her wits bout her, Sara stalked on following every bend and curve. She slowed her pace when she noticed that about fifty meters ahead, a solid wall stretched from the floor to the arched ceiling.

_How on earth am I supposed to get through there?_ She mused, staring doubtfully at the barricade.

As she got closer, however, she realized that to the left of the wall, was an aged, rustic looking table. On top of it sat a velvet, ivory pouch and a pot looking oddly like a cauldron.

_What have we here? _Sara thought, staring hard at the two items on the tabletop.

After the incident with the coat rack, she was sure that she had to do something with the pouch and, what she now realized was a giant beaker, to get through the wall.

"Where to start…" She wondered out loud.

A scratching sound right in front of her drew her attention to look at the wall above the table. Bits of stone seemed to be chiseling themselves away, powdering the antique table with a fine layer of dust. Now, crawling across the face of the wall were the numbers '382'.

"382?" Now she was utterly bewildered.

All of the possibilities for what the number could've been ran through her mind. A code. A cryptograph. A symbol. A puzzle. A zip code. The first three digits of a phone number. A page number.

"A page number…" She murmured, flashing her eyes down to the book in her hands.

_It is a chemical cookbook,_ She considered.

Setting the book down in front of the beaker, now noticing that it was half full of a thick, clear liquid, she speedily flipped through the pages until she landed on three hundred and eighty two. Unlike the other pages, there was minimal writing, only two lines.

"Hmm, let's see," Sara ran her index finger over the line. "Two hints lust. Lust?" She furrowed her brow. How was she supposed to add lust to the coagulated substance?

Reaching over to the ivory pouch, she opened it up to find it around three quarters full of a snowy powder. It appeared to be odorless and Sara sure wasn't dumb enough to try and taste it; she wagered it harmless, at least that is, for now.

Remembering her earlier thought about alchemy and mysticism, she got struck with a sudden idea. She dug her hand into the pouch, withdrawing some of the powder and raising it, palm upright, over the cistern. Taking a deep breath, she leaned over it and gave the air above it a kiss.

As if by some unknown gravitational force, the powder flew up to where her lips had been, coating the air in a blush pink imprint. Smirking, Sara blew on it, watching satisfied as it flew into the honey-think liquid, turning it a sparkling rose.

Going back to the book, she realized that it said 'Two hints lust', so she repeated the process. After the second lip imprint fell into the potion, she turned back to the book.

"Mix some charm with a dash of wits."

Charm. Slightly harder than lust, but not impossible.

Another handful of powder, and a wink caused the dust to morph into a cerulean blue, a reflection of Sara's eyes winking up at her from her palm. Carefully, she tipped her hand, causing the eye to fall into the beaker, reacting with the pink substance, turning it a deep wine color.

"And now, a dash of wits. Huh." Sara bore her eyes into the powder. Could wits really be obtained in a physical form? No, she decided; this one would purely have to be mental.

"Umm…" She cleared her throat, knowing just how peculiar she was going to sound. "Knock-knock?"

There was no response.

"Knock-knock." She tried again, more confidently.

The elixir swirled, emitting a billowing smoke that rolled across it's surface.

'_Who's there', _the smoke spelled out before fading away once more.

Sighing with relief, Sara continued, "Wits."

'_Wits, who?'_

"Wits your permission, could I get through the wall?"

There was a loud popping as the draught began to bubble and fizz, the outer surface bursting, revealing a shiny silver, almost mirror like face.

Peering down, she could see her reflection, though now matter how many times she shifted her expression, the mirror image of her stayed exactly the same, cautious yet intrigued as she had looked when she glanced into the glassy exterior at first.

She pulled back abruptly, as the wall to her right began to rise, not stopping until its entirety was concealed in the ceiling.

Smiling, she turned back to get the book, but frowned when she noticed the end of the sentence: _'Add some good looks'. _Was that what the mirror was for? A way to add the last ingredient? She hadn't even realized that anything was listed after 'wits' until now. Shutting the book, she watched as the substance in the beaker restored itself to its clear, translucent form.

Striding through the now open entry way, Sara was met with a circular room empty albeit four doors around the perimeter of the room. Thinking that this was simply passed over by process of elimination, she moved towards the first door on the left. When she got a few feet from it, it slammed shut, causing Sara to jump back slightly.

"Well, it's obviously not that one." She said to herself, turning towards the second door. This one as well, slammed shut. "And then there were two…"

Thinking she may get lucky with number four, she turned and trudged towards, but this time not only did the door bang closed, but the ceiling opened up, releasing the barricade that was only moments before keeping her out of this room, letting out a loud crash as it hit the floor.

Just when she thought things couldn't get creepier, the sconces on the wall flickered out, leaving the only light source being the orangish glow coming from beyond the third, and final open door. Gulping, Sara trudged slowly forwards, keeping the Webster's tucked tightly under the arm.

'_This will finally be the night…' _The phrase trailed through the doorway.

_Strange, _The brunette thought, eyes pensive as she stared at the doorway, thinking she could see a darkened shadow just beyond; a stair railing perhaps? _That voice sounds so familiar…_

As soon as she set foot inside the door, it swung shut behind her, encasing her in a field of firelight with the spectral voice that would forever haunt her dreams.

'_The dictionary chemical cookbook will finally hook you into me."_


	3. Please Put On Your Dance Shoes

**A/N: Yeah, I know. i was on hiatus from CSI for awhile. And yes, I'm aware that this chapter is far shorter than my other two. Oh well. I'm just getting back into the Sandle mood. Give me some slack. This story is not abandoned, I will finish it. Eventually. Read and please review? Next chapter will be up soon. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters.**

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'_Would you please take off your lab coat, kiss me as we roll through every chemical? Would you please put on your dance shoes? 'Cause I'm sick of dancing alone…'_

There were those words again, the same ones she had heard only minutes after entering the hidden passageway. Why did mysterious words keep floating towards her on the wind? Wind that shouldn't even be there since she was, after all, inside…

The harder she tried, it seemed the further away she got from figuring out what they meant. Would she please take off her lab coat? She had to put it on before she went any farther than the entrance, why would something, or someone, be asking her to take it off? Sara figured that the only time she would be able to discard the article of clothing was when she got to the end of this labyrinth or back to the start of it, whichever came to her first.

Also, what did the ghastly voice mean, asking her to kiss it as they rolled through chemicals? Being a CSI, Sara knew the hazards of chemicals from working with basic ones everyday but also by seeing the lab techs work with many of the more complex ones; one thing she learned early on was that rolling through them was not a smart idea. On the other hand, neither was kissing a bodiless voice that made the request of her twice now, even if she did think she had heard it before; the familiarity of it giving her a certain comfort.

Dance shoes? She was wandering around some godforsaken tunnel and she was being asked if she would put on her dance shoes to become a dance partner for the aforementioned voice! Even though the chemical statement was whack, she decided that this one had to be the weirdest.

She was in a hidden corridor behind the DNA lab which had minimal room for moving, let alone dancing, what with the walls being only a little more than a couple meters apart, even if the rooms got bigger and bigger as she continued on her journey through the darkness. As well, in her case at least, high heels being the favored dance shoe for most women, a pair of strappy sling backs wouldn't be the best thing to tromp around with on cobblestone floors.

Prying herself away from her thoughts, she swiveled her eyes from side to side, taking in her new surroundings for the first time.

She was standing in yet another circular room, the same sconces as before lining the wall. The shadow she thought she saw glimmer in the candlelight was indeed a staircase, wrought iron and delicate in design, beginning in the centre of the room and spiraling upwards, what Sara wagered was about two hundred meters, give or take. She may not be a genius like Grissom, but majoring in physics in University sure did help, what with all of the math courses required.

Sucking in a deep breath, she cautiously stepped onto the first stair, imagining that something terrifying or treacherous would happen. Upon realizing that it was just an ordinary staircase, she continued her ascent to the top, wishing for this all to be over soon.

Step by step she made her way up the stairs.


End file.
